


Blindspot

by wolfy_writing



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: After Foggy is threatened, Daredevil starts trying to track down the responsible parties.  A mysterious new hero is involved, known as the Chinatown Ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

“Mr. Nelson?” The man who walked up to Foggy outside the courtroom looked the picture of a corporate lawyer. Sharp haircut, discreet touch of gray around the temples, dark suit, fancy tie. “I’m here to discuss the case of Samuel Chung.”

“You know him?” Foggy asked. Sam Chung was a young janitor at Columbia, accused of aggravated assault. Foggy had been selected as Sam’s court-appointed attorney. The accusation was that Sam had broken into a private home and smashed up a friendly poker game, but, and this was the kicker, he’d allegedly been _invisible_ at the time.

Before the Incident, that would have been laughed out of the police station. Now, the kid was sitting in a cell constantly being monitored by infra-red cameras, just in case. Foggy was keeping Matt out of this one. He was working on the assumption that the kid didn’t _have_ any weird abilities, but if he did, and Matt was involved, it would be bad for them both. (As far as Matt knew, Foggy wanted to practice his courtroom skills. Which, okay, he actually _could_ use. He didn’t have Matt’s ability to start off on something that seemed to make no sense and somehow finish up by winning the case.)

“I am here on behalf of certain associates who wish to remain nameless,” said the lawyer. “We wish to discuss the young man’s future.”

“I’m sorry?” asked Foggy. “Who are you again?

“Smith.” The man produced a card. It was black, with a single telephone number, written in white.

 _Like that’s not a bad sign_ , Foggy thought.

Mr. Smith continued. “We wish to ensure the young man pleads guilty.”

“Well, Mr. Smith, that’s my client’s decision. As you are undoubtedly aware, I can’t discuss my client’s case with outside parties.”

“It would be in your client’s best interest to plead guilty, Mr. Nelson. And also yours.”

“I’m sorry,” said Foggy. “I’m lost. Is this a bribe or a threat?”

Mr. Smith smiled. It was the coldest smile Foggy had ever seen.

“Either way,” said Foggy, “This conversation is over.”

Mr. Smith rose. “Please remember, Mr. Nelson, this was the _easy_ option.”

-

“Mr. Nelson? You had a meeting today?” The man who walked into Foggy’s apartment did not look like a corporate lawyer. He wore black clothes and a ski mask, and was built like a linebacker.

Foggy jumped up from the sofa. “How did you get in?”

“Cheap locks.” The man nodded towards the door. “You should really get a deadbolt.”

“Get out before I call the police.” Foggy scrambled for his cell phone.

The man grabbed Foggy’s wrist and twisted it back painfully. “You don’t want to do that, Mr. Nelson. I would prefer not to injure you. Please, sit down and listen.”

Foggy considered trying to sucker punch the guy. Matt probably would have fought.

Foggy wasn’t Matt. He sat down.

“That’s good. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to make you rich.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope.

Foggy didn’t touch it.

“That’s the carrot.” The man gestured. “Take the money, follow directions, and you’ll have enough for a nice house. Or a fat retirement portfolio. Whatever. I don’t care.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a second envelope. “Here’s the stick. You’re going to want to look through this one.”

A voice came from the window. “You’re going to want to leave.”

Foggy turned. It was Matt, in his Daredevil costume.

The guy in the ski mask looked up. “No problem. Mr. Nelson and I have just finished our business.” He shot Foggy a meaningful look. “I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Nelson.”

“You’re going to leave,” said Matt. “And you and your associates will never come near Mr. Nelson again. Consider this a warning.”

The guy in the ski mask smiled. He turned and walked out Foggy’s front door.

There were several moments of awkward silence “So, um…how was your night?” Foggy asked. He rubbed his wrist. “Did I actually win the 'most run-ins with intimidating thugs in a single evening' contest for once?"

“Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Foggy was pretty sure he wasn’t actually injured.

“I’m going after him, to find out who he works for.” Matt opened Foggy’s door. He felt the handle for a moment, and tilted his head thoughtfully. “You need better locks.” Then he left.

Foggy sat down. After a moment, he got up and closed the window. Apparently, his apartment was about as secure as a wet paper bag, but at least he could keep the flies out.

Foggy picked up the second envelope. It was large and thin.

Inside, there were…photos. And a note.

It was...detailed.

Foggy forced himself to start breathing again.

Then he sent a text.

 _Matt, we need to talk ASAP_.

—

Matt showed up at Foggy’s apartment, trying his best to look like someone Foggy didn’t need to worry about. He’s been lucky lately, and there were no cuts or bruises anywhere Foggy would see.

As long as he kept his jacket on, that was. He really needed to invest in some long-sleeved t-shirts for warmer weather.

Foggy opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Matt stepped in. “Something up? Foggy seemed tense. His heart rate was up, and he...smelled tense. (Some day, Matt was going to learn enough biology to know exactly what chemicals created those scents.  Intense stress had a...distinctive smell.)

“Yeah,” Foggy closed the door. “Sit down. There’s a chair about four feet directly front of you. Um, you probably know that.” He walked over and sat down on the couch.

Matt took a seat. “Is everything okay? Is this about the guy last night? Is that something to do with me?”

“Sort of.” Foggy sighed and picked up an envelope.

 _God, please, not this_ , Matt thought. He should have known better, shouldn’t have gotten close, of course his loved ones were being targeted by his enemies to get to him. “Fisk? Is it Fisk?”

“I don’t think so.” Foggy was fiddling with the envelope. “I have this case - assault charges, nothing important - and this man came by saying I should get my client to plead guilty. I said no, and the man from last night showed up. He left me an envelope, as a warning.”

He pulled some documents out. Thick and glossy paper from the sound of it, probably photos.

“What is it?” Matt asked.

Foggy swallowed. “They’re pictures of you. They’ve got someone following you around. Out on the street, in your building, just everywhere. And there’s a note. ‘He comes back to you in pieces.’”

Matt blinked. “So _your_ enemies are targeting _me_ , to get to _you_?”

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“That’s not funny!” Foggy snapped.

“Come on, it’s a little funny,” Matt said, still grinning. “I bet you wished _you’d_ thought of wearing a mask.”

“Dammit, Matt, this is exactly what I was afraid of! People are stalking you, threatening to kill you, and you’re acting like it’s a joke! I still have nightmares about the time I found you bleeding to death on the floor!”

“I’ll be careful,” said Matt, the smile dropping off his face. “I promise.”

“If you could see this...someone’s been following you for at least a week! They have so many pictures!"

Matt stiffened. “Any of me in costume?

“Seriously?” asked Foggy. “Someone threatens to mail you to me in pieces, you laugh, but someone might learn about your secret devil costume, and _that_ scares you? No, they don’t have any pictures of you in costume. At least not yet.”

Matt paused. “I could talk to Brett. Discreetly,” he added. “In daylight. In a public place with plenty of witnesses. Relax, Foggy, you’ll worry yourself into a heart attack.”

Foggy sighed again. “I hate this! It’s bad enough the danger you get yourself into, but now people are threatening you because of me? What can I do?”

“Be a good lawyer,” Matt said. “Protect your client.”

—

“The DA is offering to plead this down to second-degree assault,” said Foggy. “Promising not more than a year in prison.”

“A year?” asked Sam in a shocked voice. He was nineteen and thin in an athletic way. Probably popular with the girls. “I can’t be in jail for a year!”

“As your attorney, I recommend against a guilty plea.” Foggy drew a deep breath, and tried not to think of the photos of Matt. “It’s a weak case. The only witness is claiming you attacked him while an invisible ghost! Okay, after the Kilgrave-Jones case, courts aren’t _automatically_ dismissing claims of extraordinary powers, but they still need to _prove_ it! And right now, they have literally nothing but the word of one guy, and he’s a criminal with a past drug arrest. If it goes to trial, we can shred the case, but it won’t, because the DA’s office has nothing and is trying to scare you into a plea.”

“That sounds good,” said Sam.

“Um, you don’t have invisibility powers do you?” asked Foggy. “Because if you do, and it comes out in trial, that could backfire.”

Sam laughed. “No, I don’t have any kind of powers.”

“More good news,” said Foggy. “I managed to argue the judge down to letting you out on your own recognizance.” He caught the kid’s confused expression. “That means you don’t have to pay bail. You have no criminal record, you have a steady job, you’re helping to provide for your mom and kid sister, so I persuaded them you’re not a flight risk. Or likely to commit more crimes, or miss a court date, or do literally anything wrong. Basically, I made you sound like the Boy Scout of the year. Please don’t prove me wrong.”

—

“Excuse me,” said Matt. “Could you help me find Sergeant Brett Mahoney?” “

Murdock!” Brett called out from across the room. “Never mind.” Matt smiled at the desk sergeant. “Thanks!”

Brett walked over. “Foggy didn’t send you over with more cigars for my mom, did he?”

Matt shook his head. “No, not this time.”

“Good. Tell him to keep it that way. Send her normal old-lady things, like lace doilies or potpourri.”

Matt laughed. “I can just imagine your mother’s reaction after Foggy shows up at her place with a pot of potpourri!”

“And tell him to bring some of those little ceramic thingies. Hummels. Then she’ll have something to throw at him.” Brett’s heart and breathing had dropped to a relaxed pace. “So is this a friendly visit, or do you want a favor?”

“Both, hopefully.” Matt reached into his pocket, and pulled out the business card. “Does this look familiar?”

Brett froze. His heart rate spiked. “Where did you get this?”

“One of Foggy’s clients got it. Apparently, there were threats?”

“I bet.” Brett took the card. “I’ve heard of these guys. Black cards, with nothing but a phone number. Some guy named Smith that claims to be a lawyer? Based out of the Lower East Side. There’s allegations connecting them to gun-running..”

“Allegations?”

“Witnesses dry up. Threats to their families.. We had a good line with one woman. No parents, no siblings, no kids, she thought she had no one to threaten. We set a guard on her house, and four days in, she was dead. Suicide.” Brett drew a deep breath. “She’d had one friend, someone she hadn’t talked to in a while, but someone she apparently still cared about. Someone got into her place, and scattered pieces of that friend’s body all over the room. They didn’t even bother to kill her afterward, just left her a bottle of pills to do it herself.” He handed the card back to Matt. “Tell Foggy to get his client some serious protection.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Matt said.

“I want him to be around long enough so I can kill him when those damn cigars he keeps bringing finally give my mom cancer.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s not taking the deal,” said Foggy.

Blake frowned. “Holding out for third degree assault?”

“Holding out for innocent. You know why? You got nothing.” Foggy spread his hand. “You’ve got one witness, who is, by the way, a career criminal _and_ a known drug users. And that doesn’t even _matter_ , because his entire story is insane. He’s claiming some kid he didn’t even _see_ broke in and used invisibility powers to beat him up!”

“Right,” said Blake sarcastically. “Because weird powers? In New York? Absolutely unheard of.”

“But you’d need to be able to show specifically that _invisibility_ powers exist, my client _has_ them, and that your witness correctly _identified_ my client who, he claims, was _invisible_ at the time! Do you have any of that?”

“Do you want me to force a court appearance?” asked Blake. “Because then ICE comes into it. They’ve been known to show up in court rooms.”

“ICE?” Foggy blinked. What the hell did ICE have to do with an assault case? “

Immigration. Your client’s illegal. Don’t you know that?” Blake smirked. “Foggy, do your research. Now if he takes the plea, no court appearances and he can pick his life back up afterward. But if he shows up, you’d better _hope_ he can turn invisible, because he’ll need to.”

—

Matt heard the click of the light switch. “Jonathan Yu?”

Yu stepped back, and reached into his pocket.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Matt. “I’m here to talk.”

“Get back!” said Yu. He pointed the gun.

Matt knocked the gun sideways with quick toss of the billy club, then grabbed Yu and slammed him against the wall.

“I said I’m here to talk. Do we talk here, or on the roof?”

“Here.” Yu gasped.

“Good. You run an illegal gambling parlor?  If you lie, I'll know.”

“Yes,” Yu answered, in a pained hiss.

“You have a customer called Lu Wei?”

“Yes.”

“When she failed to pay her debts, you threatened her.”

“No!”

Matt paused. Yu wasn’t lying.

“I didn’t,” said Yu. “I swear I didn’t! What do you think I am, an idiot? She only owes five hundred bucks! I put the word out that she’s barred until she pays up, and she’ll come running! Hell, she’s a gambling addict, she’ll probably sell her own blood to pay me off!”

Matt let go and stepped back. “But you said her son attacked you.”

“Yeah, well…” Jonathan Yu’s adrenaline spiked. “He didn’t.” Yu’s heart was hammering now. He was _terrified_.

“What happened?”

Yu began pacing and ran his hands through his hair. He was shaking. “I’ve…I’ve got a kid.”

He had a _kid_. Matt suppressed a shudder. “Someone threatened you.”

Yu lifted his head. “How did you know?”

“Someone with a black business card.”

“How…yeah. There’d been rumors in Chinatown. Someone going after criminals. Like an invisible man, or a ghost. Had a thing against gambling joints. Flip a few tables, scare everyone, try to get the place shut down. Pretty useless, really. Barely makes a dent in our business. My place got hit, and then the next morning Smith was there. After him, this big guy. Ski mask. Envelope full of photos. My…” Yu trailed off, and swallowed hard. “My son. He’s three. I couldn’t…”

Matt had come in expecting to fight a criminal.

He hadn’t expected to find a frightened father trying to protect his son.

“I’ll stop them,” said Matt. “They won’t touch your family. I’ll keep them safe. But you owe me a debt.”

“How much?”

“Not that kind of debt. Shut this place down. Quit the business. Do something else. Something legal. For your son’s sake,” Matt said.  

Yu nodded. “Anything. Just save my boy.”

—

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Foggy asked Sam, as they walked into the court room.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.” He was wearing a sweater, a pair of black dress slacks, and a collared shirt. It was a good attempt at the “clean-cut, honest young man” look Foggy had told him to go for, even if the sweater was a bit too big for him and clearly borrowed.

“Trust me? I’m your lawyer!” Foggy sighed. “Let me explain how this works. You tell me _everything_ that might impact your case. Then I can make an actual working plan! I’m not going to to turn you in. Unless it’s a crime you’re _currently_ plotting to commit, I’m not even _allowed_ to tell anyone!”

“I’m illegal,” said Sam. “I’m committing a crime just by being here.”

“Look, there are steps we can take. How old were you when you moved here?”

Sam shrugged. “Three, four, I don’t know. My sister was born here.”

“And your mom?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Okay, we can look at this. I’m not an immigration law expert, but I can call some people.”

“You think I can afford an immigration lawyer? I can’t even afford _you_.”

“There are options. I mean DACA, probably. Look, I’m going to be honest, this is not my area. But I’m here to help you, and that means planning. If I’d known about this, we could have had a plan!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What does that mean?” Foggy asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

—

The court appearance was uneventful. Foggy stepped up and said his client plead not guilty. The judge nodded. Blake said the DA was dropping all charges. Sam stood there, looking quiet and respectable.

A woman with a pony tail and a dark blue windbreaker kept her eyes on Sam the whole time.

Foggy didn’t think it was because she had a secret crush on the kid.

—

“I’m pretty sure that’s an ICE agent following you,” said Foggy. He shoved his business card into Sam’s hand. “Don’t do anything stupid like resisting detention. Don’t answer any questions, just tell them you want your lawyer. Trying to clean this up won’t be pretty at this point, but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sam tucked the card into his pocket, then stopped in front of the men’s room. “I need a moment. You go on ahead. I can handle this.”

“If you’re getting picked up, I want to be there. It can only help you if I’m a witness.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Sammy stepped into the men’s room.

Foggy stood outside the door.

The ICE agent stopped and stared at the door. “I can wait, you know,” she hissed at Foggy.

“No need. The ladies room is right there.” Foggy gestured.

“Pretty sure it’s empty, if you’re a bit shy.” She glared at Foggy.

After about five minutes, she squared her shoulders and shoved the door open. Foggy heard a few stall doors slam, then she stepped out. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?” Foggy gave her his most innocent expression.

She gave Foggy a dirty look. “We’ll track him down eventually, you know.”

Foggy smiled and waived as she walked off.

A minute later, Sammy stepped out the bathroom door.

Foggy glared. “You know what, _don’t_ call me. Find your own immigration lawyer.”

“What?” Sam gave his best innocent look. If it had been Foggy’s _first_ time being lied to by a secret vigilante with weird powers, he would totally have fallen for it.

“I don’t like clients who lie to me. Case is over, you got what you wanted, now go and stay out of my life.”

Foggy stormed off, trying to ignore the hurt look the kid was giving him. How the hell was it lying vigilantes were all able to do such effective puppy dog eyes?

—

Matt had, over the years, gotten very good at tuning out most sensory input in order to actually sleep. Having spent most of his teen years in a dorm full of other adolescent boys, it was either learn to sleep through the various sounds and smells or go insane.

But if there was one thing that woke him up every time, it was touch. The lightest feeling of something tapping or brushing against his skin, or even someone breathing directly on him, and unless he was half-dead, he’d wake up.

This had ruined several romantic relationships. Most women didn’t like it when a guy refused to spend the night in the same bed, and neither refusing to explain nor saying “I can’t sleep with you breathing on me all night” were much help.

The instinct had cost him several sleepless nights, and more girlfriends than he could count.

It also, occasionally, saved his life.

Matt woke up with the feel of a stranger’s breath on his neck.

He twisted away, bringing his arm up for a block. This deflected the knife that would have gone for his throat into a long, shallow slash on his forearm.

Matt rolled out of the bed and jerked upright. He could hear the attacker’s heart beat on the other side of the bed. The attacker came around the side, and Matt sprang across the bed, towards the door. He needed room to move, and if he could get one, a weapon. His club was packed away in his closet, but if he made it to the dining table, the chairs could be surprisingly effective self-defense weapons.

He got into the living room, the man closing in on him, when he heard his window open.

A second stranger broke into Matt’s apartment.

This one was wearing some sort of body suit.

And it was wired for electricity.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt ducked around and grabbed at the chair. Two opponents, one with unpredictable abilities, he wasn’t taking chances.

The guy with the knife ignored the guy in the electric suit, and went straight for Matt. Mat grabbed the chair, and took a sharp swing at the guy’s hand, while staying ready to duck if the electric suit did something unpredictable.

Electric-suit made his move, but not towards Matt. He went after the guy with the knife.

Matt stepped back and dropped the chair. It had metal legs, and he didn’t want to find out what happened if that touched the electric costume. He grabbed a heavy glass jar off the counter. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was non-conductive.

Electric-suit had…decent fighting skills, nothing amazing. He didn’t do anything noticeable with the suit, but _something_ about him was throwing his opponent off balance. Knife-guy didn’t seem to have any ability to anticipate the blows, and kept taking wild swings at the space the kid in the electric suit had just stepped out of.

He clearly was distorting the attacker's perception somehow.  Matt wasn't sure why it wasn't affecting him.  Possibly he wasn't close enough?

Finally, he got a lucky punch in, and jumped for the window.

Electric-suit whirled to go after him, then stopped and turned to face Matt.

“Who are you?” Matt asked. “What are you doing in my apartment?”  He figured playing the the role of the innocent bystander was his best chance.  Especially the role of the innocent _blind_ bystander who definitely wouldn't be able to ID anyone.  

“You can see me?” Electric-suit asked.

“I can’t see anything,” said Matt. “I’m blind. Who are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Electric-suit clicked a button, and the power cut off. He then stepped over and flicked the light switch by the door. “Oh,” he said, after turning his face towards Matt. “Sorry. You’re bleeding. Do you have a first-aid kid?”

Matt blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting _at all._ “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help. I…protect people. From criminals. There’s some coverage in the paper. They called me the Chinatown Ghost?”

Matt finally set the jar down, and started laughing.

“Easy there,” said the Chinatown Ghost. He put a gentle hand on Matt’s arm. “It’s been an intense night. You should probably sit down. That cut’s bleeding pretty badly.”

“I’ve had worse,” Matt said.

“I can see that,” said the ghost. He was a young guy, from what Matt could pick up. And apparently he was telling the truth about being there to help. He led Matt to a chair. “Where’s the first-aid kit?”

“Kitchen counter.”

The kid grabbed the kit and came back. “Hold out your arm. That’s a _lot_ of scars. Has someone been hurting you?”

“No.” Matt put on his best normal act. “I have a lot of accidents. Goes with being blind.”

“It doesn’t look like accidents,” the kid said. “It looks like knife wounds.” He cleaned up the cut on Matt’s arm, with surprising gentleness. “What’s your name?”

“You first,” said Matt. “And don’t tell me you’re a ghost.”

“On Twitter, I go by Blindspot,” said the kid. He paused, awkwardly. “Um, is that insensitive?”

“I don’t know.” The kid had a Twitter account? Was that the new thing for people who had special abilities? Matt was _not_ doing that.

The kid began bandaging Matt’s arm. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he said. “I’m tracking a group of criminals. Arms dealers. They use threats against people’s loved ones to get their way. Would you know anything about them?”

“No idea," Matt lied. "Why would they attack me?”

“I think they’re trying to intimidate a friend of yours, who did the right thing.”

 _Good for Foggy_ , Matt thought. “Who?”

“Your legal partner, Foggy Nelson.” This kid really needed to learn how to ask questions without giving away all of his information.

“Foggy?” Matt asked. “Someone’s threatening him?”

“I think so. I need to know if you have any information on this.”

“Nothing. I don’t…is Foggy okay?”

“Right now, you’re in more danger than he is. Is there _anything_ you can tell me?”

Matt shook his head. “No. I don’t know anything about this.”

Blindspot put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry any more. I’ll protect you.”

—

Foggy woke up and grabbed the phone. “Mph. Yeah? I mean Foggy Nelson speaking.”

There was a click of a recording. “Your friend, Murdock?  Check his apartment.  He should be in pieces.”

Foggy jerked upright. “What? If you hurt Matt…” The call ended.

Foggy frantically scrolled through his phone’s address book, then called. “Please no, please no, please no…Matt?”

“Yeah?” Matt sounded slightly tired, like he usually did in the morning.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Because I think someone’s coming for you.”

“No, they already came. I handled them. Well…”

Foggy’s heart leapt to his mouth. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I mean not _really_. I’m okay, Foggy.”

Foggy stood up. “Is this you need me to come over with the first aid kid okay, or you need me to call you an ambulance okay?”

“I’m _fine_. It’s nothing to worry about.”

That meant first aid kit, probably. _Hopefully_. “I’m coming over.”

—

Foggy’s fingers probed gently at the bandage. “So someone broke in, fought off the guy who tried to kill you, and then he bandaged your cut?”

“Yeah,” said Matt. “It’s kind of weird being on this end.”

“Do you wait around and bandage people after you rescue them?”

“Not so far.” Generally, Matt was the one who ended up needing a bandage.

“You need to step up your customer service game,” Foggy said. “Otherwise they’ll be calling this guy. What’s his name?”

“Blindspot.”

“Why?”

Matt sighed. “I have no idea.”

“Is he also blind?” Foggy asked. “Is this the new thing now? All blind people are going to put on costumes and fight crime?”

“I don’t think he’s blind. He didn’t move like it.”

“Neither do you.”

“True,” said Matt. “I don’t know.”

“Did he have any unusual abilities?”

“Not that I saw. Some kind of electric costume?”

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Dude, did you meet _Iron Man_?”

“I don’t think so.” Matt grinned. “He said he was the Chinatown Ghost?”

Foggy slapped his forehead. “Oh my God!”

“I know,” said Matt. “Chinatown Ghost meets the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“No, I mean yes, but no! I think I know him!”

“You do?” Matt let out a startled laugh.

“Sam! Sam Chung!” Foggy groaned. “I’m apparently a magnet for vigilantes.”

“Your _client_?”

“He can turn invisible! He said he couldn’t, but then the ICE agent came looking for him, and he vanished!”

“ _That’s_ what the suit does!” said Matt. “I couldn’t figure it out. When was fighting, the other guy didn’t seem to know where he was, so I thought his suit must distort perception…somehow...” He trailed off in embarrassment. “I um, couldn’t figure out why it didn’t work on me.”

Foggy laughed. “I am _never_ going to let you live this down.”

—

Foggy took a deep breath. He didn’t think this would work, but he had to take a shot. “I think you should stay at my place until this blows over.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“It’ll be necessary for _me_ if I’m ever going to sleep again. And it’ll be fun! It’ll be like college all over again! We can have video nights again! With the patented Foggy Nelson Audio Description Service!” Back in school, Foggy had developed a style of narrating movies that made Matt laugh so hard he would fall of the couch. They hadn’t done that in years.

Matt grinned. “That does sound fun. Maybe when no one’s after me.”

"When is that _ever_ true?” Foggy asked.

“Right now I’m actively being targeted…”

“Because of me! Because people are using you to get to me!” Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know I’m not as good at all of…” he did a karate gesture “this as you are, but two people has to be safer than one!”

“I don’t want you risking yourself for me.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Matt, could you have any more of a double standard? You’re _constantly_ risking yourself for other people!”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m trained for this,” Matt said. “Stick…”

“So because some creepy old guy picked you out of the orphanage to be his child soldier, that makes it okay that you’re constantly getting hurt, but I can’t take _any_ risk to protect my friend?”

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Okay, it sounds bad if you put it that way.”

Foggy sighed. “Please, Matt. Just let me do this one thing.”

Matt paused for a moment, then said “Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay. I’m not stopping…other activities, but if it makes you feel better having me crash in your couch, okay.”

Foggy blinked. “Did you just _agree_ to let me do something that would keep you safe?”

“See, this is where I outsmarted you,” said Matt with a grin. “I can keep an eye on _you_ every night and keep _you_ safe.”

Foggy laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

Matt found him on a rooftop.

Sam was staring over the edge. His suit gave off the thrum and crackle of electricity.

Matt crept up as close as he could, then said, “You think you’re invisible, don’t you?”

Same turned. He moves his head like he was looking Matt up and down.

“You’re…”

“Daredevil. I think you go by Blindspot?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

Matt didn’t answer. It was probably better to be cryptic.

“Are you on Twitter?”

“No.”

“I bet you’d get so many followers!” Blindspot pulled out a phone. “Look, you’ve already got a fan community.” He poked at the phone, the handed it to Matt.

“I have other things to worry about,” said Matt, handing back the phone. Acting too serious for Twitter seemed better for his secret identity than admitting that without the correct software, the phone was just a blank glass block.

“That’s cool. Social media is not your thing. I get that.”

“I understand you’re looking for an organization. Black business cards. A lawyer named Smith. They’re involved in arms dealing. They trap people into working for them by threatening their loved ones.”

“How did you know all that?” Blindspot sounded shocked.

Matt decided to take refuge in being cryptic again. He gave a smile.

“You’re good,” said Blindspot. “You’re _very_ good. Anyway, I have a reason to believe they’re targeting a lawyer named Nelson.”

“He represents Sam Chung.” Matt caught the spike in Blindspot’s heart rate. "That’s you.” That got another heart rate spike. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. And other people are unlikely to put together the information.”

“How…how did…you…”

Matt went for another cryptic smile. He wasn’t sure how many of these he could get away with.

“I…yeah. That’s me. I can’t believe…” Blindspot shook his head. “Wow.”

“You have the invisibility suit. They want it.”

Blindspot nodded. “They went after me. I think my lawyer, too. I had to rescue this blind guy, and it turns out he was my lawyer’s partner, Murdock.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“He had scars. It was ugly. You could tell someone had really gone after him with a knife. Some of them were older, so it’s been going on for a while. I tried to find out who was doing that to him, but I think he was too scared to talk.” Blindspot shook his head. “Going after a blind man like that. Can you imagine?”

Matt coughed. “They’ve done some ugly things. I spoke to Jonathan Yu, and they threatened his three-year-old son.”

“A child?” Blindspot sounded shocked.

“You see some ugly things when you do this kind of work.”

“I thought Yu was just being an asshole!” Blindspot tilted his head. “We need to protect him. I was going to keep an eye on Murdock’s place, but if I’m watching Yu’s house, well, I have a job, and…”

“I’ll watch Murdock,” Matt said. He didn’t need a stranger hovering around to keep an eye on him.

“Good. From what I read about him in the papers, he seems like a nice guy. He doesn’t deserve to get dragged into this.”

—

“Foggy, I found something.” Karen looked up from a piled of files. “Why is the couch made up?”

“Matt’s staying over for a bit.”

“You know, I’m not surprised you two moved in together, but I _am_ surprised he’s already been sent to sleep on the couch.”

Foggy smiled. “So did you find anything on that weird card I asked about?"

“A syndicate.” Karen set the files down on the coffee table and began flipping through. “Sorry, they’re trying to get the Bulletin to digitize more of their records, but just _try_ to get some reporters to keep records in the form of anything other than semi-legible scrawls on a steno pad…anyway, there have been rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Scientists. After Stark got out of the weapons business, and Hammer industries tanked, a lot of them were out of work. Rumor has it some of the arms dealers have been starting their own R&D department to take advantage of some of the…post-Incident debris. It’s not confirmed, but there are stories. Some involve a lawyer named Smith and the black business cards.”

Foggy bit his lip. “They’d be after anyone with potentially useful military tech, right?”

“I imagine they’d hire them first, but you know.”

“Okay, I think I’ve got some ideas of what’s going on. But this runs into…confidentiality issues.”

“A client?” Karen tilted her head.

“Confidentiality issues,” Foggy repeated. “Anything you can find on this, who they are, and how to track them will be helpful.”

“Okay,” said Karen. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Foggy nodded and gave her a grateful smile.

“So seriously, Matt’s staying here because...”

“Someone broke into his place. He’s staying over until everything’s fixed.”

“That’s good.” Karen smiled. “I know he’s pretty capable and independent, but sometimes I think he needs more looking after than he’s willing to admit.”

Foggy sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

—

Matt put enough distance between himself and Blindspot to create the impression he was guarding Matt Murdock’s apartment.

Then he backtracked.

Whoever they were, they seemed to be a lot heavier in Chinatown. And while they were using the indirect leverage to set things up, they hadn’t gone directly for the big prize.

Matt had Sam Chung’s address from Foggy. He knew Sam lives with his mother and his kid sister. He knew it was only a matter of time before they wanted more direct leverage on Sam.

The apartment was small and fairly quiet. Matt could hear Hannah up, a bit too late, watching videos on her laptop. She was big on celebrity gossip sites, with a focus on superheroes, so Matt got the complete story of Tony Stark’s ex-girlfriends and the sexiest superhero according to an internet survey. (Someone called T’Challa, who was a “smokin’ hottie”, and apparently owned his own country.)

There were the heartbeats of different people passing by on the street.

Most of them passed by peacefully.

One stayed parked outside the apartment all night.

When he left, Matt followed him as far as possible, but there was a traffic jam, and from the increasing warmth, Matt was pretty sure the sun had come up.

When he noticed people turning their heads and having heart rates speed up when they looked at him, Matt knew it was time to get off the street and out of sight.

—

Foggy was ready to go to the office just as Matt got in. Much to Foggy’s relief, Matt looked tired, but unharmed. “Long night?”

“Long, but useful.”

“Are you going to stay out every night?” Foggy asked. “Because I have to say, I was kind of promised a slumber party. Sleeping bags in the living room, braiding each other’s hair…well, braiding my hair. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can talk my mom into letting us order a pizza and rent an R-rated movie.”

Matt laughed. “Hopefully it won’t be so late.”

“Yeah, too many all-nighters in a row aren’t good for you. You should remember that from law school.”

“I _never_ pulled the all-nighters! I studied all semester! _You_ were the one who’d party every weekend and spend finals week popping No-Doz over a pile of books!”

“And it made me the man I am today. Just goes to show, it’s not what you know, it’s how fun you are to hang out with.”

Matt smiled. “You definitely win on that front.  I may be a little late getting into Nelson and Murdock this morning."  

"Take the day off," said Foggy. "You look too tired to be much use around the office.  Get some sleep. And be careful.”

—

Matt took a four-hour nap, and woke up with his stomach growling. After a quick poke around Foggy’s kitchen, he didn’t find anything appealing to eat, or anything that he was entirely confident in categorizing as food.

He ordered soup from the one Vietnamese place he knew with the organic vegetables, and decided to stay in like a nice, sensible, careful person and wait for his lunch.

When the delivery man came, there was something off about his accent. But it wasn’t like Vietnamese restaurants were _required_ to hire Vietnamese delivery people.

Matt thanked him, tipped generously, and went to work on his lunch.

It had a bit of an odd aftertaste. Had they gone cheap on the vegetables? It was hard to pin down over the spices.

An hour later, he’d cleaned up and was feeling full, drowsy, and _very_ relaxed. He stretched out on the sofa, and had another nap.

When he woke up, he was in a strange, cold room, chained to a cement pillar, with his hands behind him. Across from him sat a frightened teenage girl, also chained up. Matt really should have reminded Foggy to change his locks.


	5. Chapter 5

“Luuuceee, I’m home!” Foggy called out.

Nothing. The apartment was dark and quiet. Maybe Matt had slept all day?

Foggy opened the door and switched on the light.

Sam Chung was sitting on Foggy’s sofa, wearing the stupidest-looking costume Foggy had ever seen.

It was a black bodysuit, with little bumps and ridges all over it, and bits of electronics poking through the fabric. It covered everything except the face, which had a clear plastic face plate with more bits of wires embedded in it.

“I know you don’t want to see me, Mr. Nelson, but this is important. For both of us. Can you summon Daredevil?”

“I...don’t…think so,” said Foggy. He looked around. “Have you seen my friend Matt?”

“They took him,” said Sam, and his voice wobbled. “They took your friend, and I’m sorry. I knew he was in trouble, but Daredevil promised to look after him for me. I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

Foggy’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “They took Matt? They _who_?”

“Men. A group of them. I tailed them back to the warehouse, and I saw they had your friend and…someone else. I was going to take them on, but there are too many, and I need backup, and I thought you could find Daredevil, because I need him!”  Sam sounded close to tears.

“Someone else?” Foggy asked.

Sam looked down.

“Look, if I’m going to work with you, you have to tell me the truth. I’ve deal with more of this costumed vigilante weirdness than you probably think, and I can take it if you tell me the truth. But if you don’t, I’m going to the cops.”

“You can’t!” Sam said. “They have my sister!”

—

“What’s your name?” Matt asked.

“Hannah,” said the girl. “Hannah Chung.” She sounded like she was trying not to cry.

“I’m Matt. Listen, Hannah, we’re going to make it out of here. We’re going to be okay. You just need to be brave.”

Someone else approached. “That’s almost right, Hannah. _You’ll_ be okay, provided your big brother loves you as much as we hope. If he plays ball, you are going to be safe and unharmed, and go home in one piece.” He stopped between the pillars. “Matt here, however…his friend was not so cooperative. Normally, I wouldn’t bother a kid like you with what we’re going to do to him, but I want to you to be able to very clearly explain to your brother the consequences of not sharing his toys.”

So they were going after Matt, not Hannah. Good. Well, not _good_ , but better than the alternative. Matt could endure more than a scared teenager.

The man knelt down in front of Matt, and put a hand on Matt’s face. “What do you think? Start with the eyes? It’s not like you need them. I bet I could get them out in one piece, make a nice little keepsake for your friend Foggy. Or maybe the hands. Work through, finger-joint by finger-joint, until there’s nothing left. Might make for too long of a video, though.”

“Video?” Matt asked, trying not to think about it. His fingers, if he lost his fingers...he forcibly shoved the fear aside.

“Yeah, Murdock, you’re going to be a star. A shame you won’t live to…well it’s not like you’d able to see it anyway. But you are going to die here tonight, make no mistake. And it will be all Foggy Nelson’s fault.”

—

“Let’s go,” said Foggy.

“What?” Sammy looked up.

“I’ve tried to call in some...special help, but no one’s picking up.” Alias Investigations was apparently closed for the night, and Foggy had no idea of that Jones woman’s private number. “I know I don’t have a fancy suit or your fighting skills, but at the least I can be ready with a cell phone and a car in case we need to call the cops or make a fast getaway. So come on, let’s go.” He grabbed his keys.

Sam gave him a look. What _was_ it with vigilantes and thinking they were the only ones allowed to take risks? Some teenager in a stupid costume was ready to go fight an army of criminals to save Matt, and he was looking at Foggy like _he_ was the crazy one for offering the be nearby with a ride and a phone?

“The faster we get going, the better the chances we can find your sister in one piece.” Foggy tucked his phone in one pocket, his keys in the other.

That got Sam moving. He nodded towards Foggy and headed out.

Foggy followed, desperately hoping Matt was still in one piece.

—

“Where do we want to start?" A man stood about ten feet away, slightly to Matt's left, fiddling with what Matt was pretty sure was a camera on a tripod. "Hands? Feet?"

"Eyes," said the man standing on Matt's right side. "Yeah, I know, blind guy, but I want to see if I can get the eyeball out in one piece as a present for Nelson. And I bet he'll scream while we do it just the same."

Matt felt the restraints again. They were leather, and he probably could have worked free if his hands had been closer together, or he'd had more time. But they'd strapped him to a flat board, arms spread apart, and he couldn't find a way free.

 _When they start taking off fingers, muttered a voice in the back of Matt's mind_ , that sounded like Stick, _the hand will be smaller, and you can slip free_.

Matt fought back panic at the prospect of losing fingers (how would he find things, how would he _read_ …he forced a deep breath.)

Hannah was chained to a chair, fifteen feet away, straight ahead. She'd managed to keep silent, but Matt could hear her heart racing.

No quitting on this one. He'd have to take them both down, no matter what happened to him. Do what it took to get the girl out.

There were distant footsteps, a click, and then the sudden loss off a subtle lightbulb noise as the power went out.

Matt nearly laughed with relief.

"Dammit!" The camera guy stepped back.

"I can't film without the lights."

The man who'd been worryingly close set down the small knife he'd been holding. "I am not working on him in the dark. One slip, and he bleeds out _far_  too quickly. Go check the circuit breaker, will you?"

The cameraman left the room by a door on the right. Matt heard more footsteps.  The familiar electrically-outlined form of Blindspot entered the room. The kid was going to _have_ to learn to move more quietly.

Scalpel Guy heard him and turned, swinging something heavy. Blindspot barely dodged in time. Scalpel Guy got a few close swings, but was apparently totally reliant on his eyes, and missed all of the obvious opportunities. It didn't take long before Blindspot knocked him on the head.

Blindspot rushed over to Hannah. There was the rattle of handcuffs and his stress level spiked.

"The other guy has the keys in his pocket," Matt said, feeling the adrenaline start to fade from his system. "He's in the room to the right."

Blindspot straightened up and turned his head to Matt. Matt smiled. "I listen well."

"What is happening?" Hannah sounded on the verge of tears. "What is...something's moving but I can't see it!"

"Invisibility suit," said Matt. "He's a...crime-fighter. It's okay, I’ve met him before. He's here to help. You can trust him."

Blindspot turned back to Hannah. "That's right. I'm here to rescue you." He switched the electricity off for his suit.

"Um, that guy's getting up soon if you don't do something," said Matt. Scalpel Guy's breathing had shifted, and he was going to be fully conscious soon.

Blindspot turned towards the guy, and gave him a swift kick in the head.

"If you unstrap me," said Matt, "You can tie him up here." His leather straps didn't have locks, unlike the handcuffs.

"Right," said Blindspot. "Good idea. Thank you." He went over and unstrapped Matt. "Um, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Matt. "Although a few minutes later, it would have been a different story." He stepped over and helped Blindspot move Scalpel Guy onto the table.

"You're very calm about this," said Blindspot.

Belatedly, Matt realized most people probably wouldn't shake off a near-dismemberment that quickly. "I promised Hannah we'd get out of this in one piece." That didn't actually explain anything, but in Matt’s experience, people in frightening situations tended to accept most answers when they were said in the right tone of voice.

Blindspot got Scalpel Guy strapped down. "Okay, he shouldn't be a threat. I'm going to go look for the other one and free my...the other hostage. You stay here and...scream if anything goes wrong."

Matt nodded. As soon as Blindspot was out of the room, Matt began feeling Scalpel Guy's tray. He was more careful than strictly necessary, in case Hannah could see well enough to wonder what the blind guy was doing. Nothing useful was on the tray, but Scalpel Guy had a bag with some documents. Matt picked through and found one with a paperclip. He walked over to Hannah and bent down behind her. "Try to keep quiet. I need to listen carefully to the lock."

That was mostly for show, but presumably a normal blind person who knew how to pick locks would need quiet? He hoped. It sounded plausible, at least. And it wasn't like most people would know better.

Hannah nodded, then said "I will," then went quiet.

Matt went to work on the cuffs, calmly and carefully. As he worked, he picked up a set of footsteps. Not Blindspot. Too heavy. And not Camera Guy.

The man walking was about twenty feet in front of Hannah. He held something in his right hand, from what Matt could tell, almost certainly a gun.

He held a finger to his face, presumably telling Hannah to keep quiet.

Matt finished picking the lock and very carefully removed the cuffs. He gave Hannah's wrists a squeeze to signal to keep her arms behind her. He did his best estimate of the angle of the gun hand, and then whispered, "Hannah, down."

When he pulled the chair away, Hannah hit the floor.

Matt threw the chair at the man with the gun.

The man panicked, and his first shot went wild.

Matt didn't give him time for a second shot.

-

Blindspot returned to the room with the handcuff keys. Scalpel Guy was still chained up, and a large man was cuffed to the chair in Hannah's place. Hannah was standing up and rubbing her wrists.

"What happened?" Blindspot asked. Hannah looked over at Mr. Murdock, then back at Blindspot.

"Spider-Man," she said. "You know, the guy in the red and blue costume? He swung through and freed me. Got the man with the gun, too. I owe him my life."

Mr. Murdock had an odd expression on his face. "Is that who that was?" he asked. "I heard a lot of punching. I was going to yell for you, but it was over so quickly."

Blindspot looked at Hannah. She was hiding something, but she seemed okay. "Let's get you two out of here," he said.

-

Matt ran out ahead of the sirens. "Is that the cops?"

Blindspot lead Matt onward. "If _you_ want to stay around and answer their questions, feel free. I'd rather not."

He lead Matt to the back door of a car, and put Matt's hand on the roof. "Here we are."

Matt opened the car door. "Foggy?"

"Matt, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Matt, as he got in the car. "What are you doing here?" "

You were _kidnapped_! What was I supposed to do?"

"Call the cops!"

"I did!" Foggy started the car as everyone got inside. "I called...Blindspot here first. Then I heard shooting and called 911 from a burner phone."

"And he was the one who thought of cutting the power," said Blindspot. "I couldn't have done half as well without him."

Matt grinned. "Foggy, are you secretly running around at night fighting crime?"

"Yeah, you caught me," Foggy said sarcastically. "I'm the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."

Hannah let out an excited squeal. "Oh my God, really? I love him!”

"No, it's a joke," said Matt. "It _is_ a joke, right?”

"It is," said Foggy. "If I was doing something like that, I'd have told my best friend first."

Matt went quiet for the rest of the ride.


	6. Chapter 6

Smith walked into his office. He flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. He flipped it a few more times, and then swore under his breath.

“Don’t bother,” said Matt. He’d cut the wires.

Smith turned. “So, the devil himself, then? What did I do to deserve this? Let me guess, you have someone you want to warn me off? I heard you turned up to protect that lawyer Nelson and his little blind friend. Is that the deal? Hands off?”

“You won’t touch Nelson. Or any of his friends or family. The same is true of Sam Chung. And Jonathan Yu. And everyone you’re targeting. Your operation will shut down.”

“Is that so?” Smith laughed. “Or what? You think we’re scared of you? Your little devil costume? We’re all quaking in fear because you punched a few people? If you beat me, even if you kill me, is that supposed to stop anything? We are _so_ much bigger than you. We’ll find you. We’ll find everyone you care about. And we will send them to you in pieces.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Matt. “That wasn’t a threat.” The sound of police sirens was growing stronger. Smith was bound to hear them any second now.

Smith tilted his head. “Calling the police? I suppose you think that’s original.”

Matt didn’t respond.

“You know who pulls the strings in this town. I’ll be out in a day. All charges dropped. And then, we find out who the man in the devil costume really is. Although, you have been irritating. I may just take the direct approach.” He opened the desk drawer where he kept his gun. “You searched my office, and got rid of the gun. Smart.”

He looked up. And then he was struck on the head from behind.

—

About five minutes later, Brett Mahoney arrested Smith, in his office. Taped to the walls were a full set of blackmail photos, threatening messages, and pictures of the dismembered remains of the people threatened, along with financial records tying Smith to every crime.

Working with Blindspot could be useful sometimes, Matt decided. It was good to have someone who could _see_ the incriminating records. (Matt had invented a story about going out to secure the escape route while Blindspot got the evidence set up. Blindspot hadn’t questioned it. The kid had talent, but was going to need to become a lot more observant.) And someone who other people couldn’t track was always useful, especially when Matt could sense him from a mile away.

Matt _still_ wasn’t getting a Twitter account, though.

—

“Mr. Murdock?” Blindspot knocked on the window. “It’s Blindspot. May I come in?”

“Sure.” Matt unlocked and opened the window.

Blindspot hopped down. “I wanted to see how you were doing. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks for asking. Everything’s fine.”

“You took it well,” Blindspot said. “Being kidnapped, I mean.  A lot of people would have panicked, but Hannah...the other hostage, she said you were pretty brave.”

“Thanks. She was brave, too. She’s a good kid.”

“Lucky thing Daredevil showed up when he did.”

“I thought it was Spider-Man?” Matt tilted his head. “I didn’t see him, obviously.”

“Spider-Man. Right. Must have gotten them confused. I met Daredevil, you know. He’s good. Very good. Observant. He worked out my secret identity right away.”

“Yeah?” Matt kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I’m not quite _that_ quick. Not yet. I still guess wrong about certain things. Why people have scars, what kind of people can do this sort of work, what their skills are. But I get there eventually.” He paused. “I’ll make sure Hannah keeps her story straight. The man who saved her life deserves that much.”

Matt very carefully didn’t say anything. This kid was learning quickly. Matt was lucky he still had deniability.

“If you see Daredevil, tell him thank you.”

Matt nodded. “I will.”


End file.
